


Someone Worth Leaving Katmandu For

by BirdBoneGirl



Series: Highlander Coda Fics [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Coda, Episode: s05e09 The Messenger, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 05:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17481659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdBoneGirl/pseuds/BirdBoneGirl
Summary: Coda Fic for the Messenger.Methos returns to apologizes to Duncan for everything that happened in Paris. They both get a little more than they bargained for.This scene picks up just as the scene in the loft at the 22:31 mark of the episode.





	Someone Worth Leaving Katmandu For

“I left Katmandu for this,” Methos said, snatching his pliers from Duncan’s hand with a glare.

Duncan smiled, satisfied that the man would do as he had asked and tell Richie who he was. He had only thought Methos the source of Richie’s new ‘peace and love’ movement for ten minutes, but that had made him more irritated than he wanted to admit. Finding out that it wasn’t *his* Methos made him feel better, and now, knowing that Methos would help made him finally relax. He sat down on the couch across from his friend and sighed. 

Methos pursed his lips, quirking an eyebrow at him. They sat staring at each other for a very long moment. Finally Methos put down the pliers and his boot, and got to his feet. 

“I’ll get you that beer.”

Duncan couldn’t help with smile at him. Grumpy old man, he thought, watching him walk to the kitchen. 

“I can hear you smirking at me ‘Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod’.” He said, imitating his voice as he opened the fridge. “You’re the one who seriously thought,” the bottles clinked together as he held them in one hand, “I would be going around telling young people to drop their weapons.” He shut the fridge and came to stand behind the chair he had recently occupied tossing the bottle of beer at him. Duncan was grateful for his quick reflexes and deftly caught it as it careened towards him. 

“When, pray tell will Richie be joining us?” Methos asked as he circled around the chair.

“When I tell him to meet us.” Duncan said, “he just left.”

“Good,” and he plopped down next to him. “For if I recall correctly we had some unfinished business…”

Duncan stiffened, his hand lifting to break the seal on the beer. He nearly dropped the bottle. Startled by the man’s sudden proximity. 

He coughed, “Oh, do we?”

Methos reached up to scratch his chin. “Yes, we do.”

Duncan took a long swig of his beer, avoiding looking over at the man.

“Yes,” Methos said, dropping his voice and his snark.

Duncan’s eyes slid over to look at his profile as he spoke. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“As I said MacLeod, I did a lot of thinking up in the mountains.”

“Methos, you don’t have to-” Duncan protested, not really wanting to hear this from him. 

“Fine, I don’t have to. But I want to.” Methos said. Duncan stopped himself from protesting further. “I’m sorry. For how I left. 

“If i hadn’t forgiven you already, you wouldn’t be in my house.”

“Right.” Methos nodded sharply. 

“Are you alright?”

“Fine, never better.” He made a move to stand, but Duncan put out a hand to stop him as his other hand set down his beer. 

“What is going on with you?” Duncan had never seen Methos lose his cool like this. 

Methos smirked, covering whatever emotion he was really feeling. “Nothing, I just didn’t like how things ended. Last time I saw you… and it isn’t like we exactly had a great time last year in Paris.”

Duncan relaxed slightly, but didn’t move, keeping his hand on Methos’s arm. “Joe and I are talking again, the only reason I hadn’t talked to you was you, was because you were in literal Katmandu.” Methos rolled his eyes. “It’s all okay, old friend.”

Methos turned his head away, looking out the window and licking his lips. He huffed out a little laugh. “I’ve known you less time than I’ve known my barber. ‘Old friend’.” He scoffed. 

Duncan laughed, moving his arm. “True. But sometimes... “

Methos did stand, walking towards the windows. “Sometimes, what?” He prompted. 

“Sometimes, you meet someone and it feels like you’ve known them forever.” Did he imagine the dark look that passed over Methos’s face? It was gone in a moment, but in times like these he was reminded that the man had lived since time immemorial. 

Methos turned to face him fully, that playful smile broad on his lips. “Forever is longer than you can imagine.”

“I think I have a better idea than most.” and Duncan set down his beer rose to his feet to join him by the window. 

Methos glanced at him and smiled softly. “I suppose you do.” 

Duncan looked over at him, ready to talk more, but Methos was done talking. He lifted his head a stepped up under his defenses to plant a kiss on his lips. His hand came up to cup the side of his face, cool from holding the beer. Methos pushed him back towards the couch and he went willingly. He tasted like the beer he had been drinking, sharp and sweet and alcoholic. 

Methos kept pushing him back, his legs hitting the couch. Methos pushed him down. 

Duncan didn’t resist, sinking down into the cushions and turning his body to let the man cover him. It felt good. It felt right. Methos thoroughly kissed him into submission before he sat back so he could pull off his shirt and throw it aside. Once stripped out of his shirt he swung his legs over his lap and straddled him on the couch, his hips moving just a little over him to make him squirm under the hot pressure on his pelvis. 

Duncan watched him strip. The man may not be a bodybuilder, but he was lithe and moved with ease. His months climbing mountains showing in the strength of his thighs squeezing him and the lean muscles that moved beneath his skin as he moved. 

There was something about him, all sharp angles and long limbs. That subtle power that emanated from immortals was amplified in him. He could always feel other immortals power, and Methos, though unassuming in many ways, radiated with it. Casually he wondered just how many quickenings he had gone through in his time. How much power could he have gained in 5000 years. 

Thinking about his power lent an urgency to his feelings of want, and made his blood leap like it did when he went into battle. He reached his hands up to glide up his torso feeling the ribs under the skin and muscle. Methos gasped a little at his soft touch, his bare skin bright in the afternoon light streaming into through the lofts floor to ceiling windows. 

His face barely visible except as a backlit profile, his prominent nose, his thin face, hair tousled from the sweater removal. It was all too much. He couldn’t wait for this slow reveal.

He put his hands to either side of his ribs and lifted him up and off of him, depositing him on the couch. Then he rose in one movement and took off his own sweater and shirt and threw it to the floor.

“Did you have to make that look so effortless, MacLeod?” Methos asked, smirking from his position on the couch sprawled out and inviting. His eyes roving over his body appreciatively. 

Duncan returned the favor, his eyes never leaving his as he knelt before him. Leaning forward Duncan reached out and rubbed a hand lightly up the inner thigh of his jeans, coming to rest on the growing bulge in his pants. 

Groaning, Methos arched his hips up to meet his hand at the light touch. Duncan leaned forward, tightly pressing himself against his knees. Methos watched him closely, his brown eyes dilated and inviting. 

Methos took up his hands in his own, smirking a little as he pulled them up to kiss them like you would a lady at court, then he opened his legs so he could pull him in like a caught fish. Duncan let out a moan as his body came flush with the man’s crotch. 

Dropping his hands, Methos slid his arms up his side pulling his chest into his own. One hand sliding down between them, stroking him in turn, his eyes studying his face as he did so. Duncan felt his breath catch in his throat, almost more from his attention than the actual feeling of his hands on him. 

“You are a sight,” Methos mused, equally breathless as their hands roved over each other. “And I thought watching you fight was breathtaking.” 

“Just take your pants off old man,” Duncan told him, his hand going for the jeans button. 

Just as the words left his lips, they both startled to feel the buzz of an approaching Immortal. 

They exchanged looks, as their hands leaped off of each other’s dicks. They both made a dive for their fallen shirts, practically falling over each other to get dressed. “I thought you said Richie had just left,” came Methos’s muffled admonishment as he pulled the sweater over his head. He then got off the couch to sit back in the chair he had vacated earlier, glowering at him with his back at the door. 

“Or, Colbraith,” Duncan muttered worriedly as he grabbed up his Katana in one hand, the other straightening his shirt. 

Richie came out of the stairwell a few moments later, looking around as he came in. 

Too late, they both realized they had switched shirts in the chaos. Nothing they could do about that, except pretend it hadn’t happened. Methos was leaning forward, elbows on his knees his boot and pliers back in his hands. It was all Duncan could do not to laugh at his predicament. It would be easier if he himself wasn’t having the same issue. At least he could turn away under the pretense of putting his sword away and sitting down. 

Luckily for them, Richie was too preoccupied to seem to notice. 

 

“Richie!” Duncan said, a little too cheerfully. 

“Hi Mac...Adam, was it?” He greeted Methos, with an extended hand. 

Methos rose, but kept his hand to himself, no doubt realizing what it had last been holding, “I was just cleaning my shoes, let me wash up before i shake your hand,” and he moved past him to the kitchen sink. Smooth. Duncan kept back the laugh that threatened to come out. 

“Actually Richie, this is Methos.” Methos jumped slightly at his real name being used and turned towards him as he rinsed his hands. 

RIchie stopped dead in his tracks. Looking from him to Methos and back. “That isn’t Methos, Mac. I met Methos last night.”

Methos gave him a look somewhere between, “young people” and “i told you so.”

Duncan cleared his throat. “Richie, trust me, this is the real Methos.”

Methos grinned in a way that did not reach his eyes, it was sort of terrifying. 

“Look, I’m sure this is a lot to take in. Why don’t we go to Joe’s and I can explain everything over a drink.” Methos said briskly as he wiped his hands dry on a dish towel. 

Duncan, still not trusting he should stand, slapped his hands on his legs and agreed. 

Richie looked from him to Methos and back, then rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t say no to a drink.”

Duncan turned out the dojo studios lights and locked the door. After his little incident with the other Methos and discussion with the real Methos and Joe at the bar he had come back to the studio to work out. Moving his body around always helped work through his emotions. 

Still he found he was agitated as he closed up. He could follow most of his angst to being around the complications of believing peace was possible, the other bit worrying about Richie. But if he was honest he was mostly agitated that he and Methos has been interrupted that afternoon.

He couldn't get the taste of him out of his mouth, the thoughts of his hands under his shirt and holding him down on the couch, his voice in his ears.

Even briefly letting those thoughts in had him sweating. He wasn’t sure if Methos would be back after the little argument they had had about all this. 

Resigned he made his way to the elevator, the buzz hit him halfway up and he entered his loft, Katana ready. Methos popped out from the kitchen, his own sword out.  
“My sweater looks a little baggy on you.” Duncan observed, dropping his sword. Methos placed his sword on the counter and stepped closer to him. 

“Mine looks just fine on you,” Methos told him. “I kind of like you in my clothes. Though I do think you looked even better when you were taking them off.” He moved his hands to the hem of his shirt. Duncan lifted his arms to aid him in the shirts removal, revealing his bared chest. 

“You think he noticed our shirts were switched?” Duncan asked, but Methos wasn’t paying that close attention as he was busy unbuckling Duncans belt. He quickly had his pants and boxers down and started to kneel in front of him. Duncan stopped him, Methos giving him a disappointed look.

“No way are you doing that with my sweater on,” He told him seriously. 

Methos laughed, “Wouldn’t want to get anything on your sweater, Macleod?”

“No, you just look silly giving head with it on,” Duncan said.

“Fair enough,” Methos said, shrugging out of it and kicking off his pants as well. 

Duncan stood there looking him over. “Shower?” 

Methos nodded, and Duncan got to watch his ass as he walked in front of him towards the bathroom. 

Leaning into the stall to turn the shower on Methos casually knelt down and without preamble swallowed him up.

Duncan let out a groan, reaching out for anything to hold onto as the man’s tongue licked all around his head. He found the towel rack and held on for dear life. Methos sucked and licked and Duncan found he really wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. Methos then chose that moment to slip a hand up his ass and tickle his rim. 

Duncan let out a curse he hadn’t uttered since he was in the Highlands. Methos had to pull off of him as he choked out a laugh. He might have been offended if the man hadn’t just made him feel so damned good. And he had managed not to come all over the man after only a few minutes. 

“I didn’t know THAT would bring out the Scot in you.” Methos said.

“I show you bringing out the Scot in me,” Duncan grabbed himself up in his own hands to give a couple relieving strokes. His cock was rock hard and fit to burst if he didn’t calm himself a bit. 

“I think the water is warm, if the amount of steam in here is any indication,” Methos told him pleasantly, wiping his chin as he stood. He lazily trailed a hand up his thigh and side as he did so. 

Duncan let himself focus on the new sensations of the man’s hands and took some calming breaths. He looked him over as he stood, appraising him. His pale flesh was smooth and muscled. His cock was fully erect against his belly, looking pink and inviting. 

He leaned into and kissed him, his hand resting on his own moving with his own strokes. Duncan let himself go, and grabbed onto Methos. Methos didn’t gasp, but his smile got wider as he pulled back, and he closed his eyes appreciatively letting him stroke him to full hardness. 

He placed his hand over Duncan’s, so he would stop and started to step backwards towards the shower. 

Duncan followed willingly into the hot streaming water. He let Methos enter first watching his face change as the water hit him, he turned to the wall to adjust the temperature and Duncan slid up behind him, fitting his cock between his cheeks. Methos gasped and accidentally turned the tap too far, dousing them in cold water. They both gasped at the shock, and Duncan tightened his grip on the man, feeling his slick, warm back trapping his cock between them. The contrast of his hot flesh and the cold water only made him want him more, and he moved himself against his ass. Methos managed to get the water back to normal, after making it in turns too hot and too cold again before he landed on just right. 

They both stood there, gasping as they soaked in the heat. Duncan reached over his shoulder and grabbed up the soap. 

“Is that the only lube available?” Methos asked as Duncan slid his soapy hands between his cheeks, “I mean at least in greece they had olive oil everywhere.”

“You’ll live,” Duncan growled into his ear, as he gently stroked his hole with his lathered hand. 

His other hand reached around and took him up with a slow stroking. This was enough to finally illicit a deep groan and a couple gasping breaths out of the man. His ass grinding back into his dick as his hands stroked and petted him, the warm water cascading over both of them. Methos could do nothing but keep his legs planted and hands on the wall of the shower stall. 

“Fuck, MacLeod,” He growled out as Duncan slipped a finger inside him. 

“That’s what I thought I was doing,” Duncan teased, as he moved his finger slowly, letting him relax and take him in. Methos just swore at him again in a language he didn’t know. 

“Was that ancient egyptian?” Duncan asked. 

“Dear god stop being so-” He gasped again as Duncan switched positions with the hand on his cock. 

Duncan leaned in to his ear and spoke so that his lips brushed his lobes. “Stop being what?”

“So damned smug.” Methos finished breathily. 

“I’m fucking a 5000 year old man, I think I’ve earned it.”

“JUST,” he breathed in a deep breath, “stop talking and get inside me, you ass.”

“You mean, your ass.” Duncan pulled out his fingers and grabbed more soap. “I do apologize about the lack of lube.”

“I’ll heal,” Methos sighed, bracing himself.

“I’ll be gentle,” he told him by his ear again, stroking as much soap as he could along his shaft. He stepped back behind him, spreading his cheeks and lining himself up. He slid in his head then paused as Methos adjusted himself and leaned his head on the tiles, breathing deeply and slowly. 

“You ready?”

Methos made a noise of ascent and Duncan pushed himself inside him. Slowly, but with somewhat surprising ease. Methos moved to meet him. Once he was all the way inside they stood there breathing heavy, the shower running over them hotly. Duncan held him around the middle, and Methos was holding himself and stroking lightly with one hand, the other arm and his head still braced against the wall. 

Then he slowly pulled out of him and in, making sure that he was still remaining relaxed as he moved. The tightness of his ass was incredible, and hot. Methos moved with him easily and smartly. Within moments Duncan had let him go so he could grab onto his hips and increase his pace. 

Methos called for him to pause, “Can we uh, take this to the floor, I might get a concussion from this vantage.” Duncan smiled kissing him on the back of the neck as he pulled out, and they both knelt down on the floor of the shower.

Duncan gently pushed back inside him, and made some experimental thrusts, causing the man to swear again this time on his hands and knees. He then angeled himself a bit higher and thrust down, hitting his prostate. 

Methos groaned eloquently, and pushed his ass higher into his body. After a few false starts they soon found a fast steady rhythm. It was only a few minutes of this exercise before Methos came, his own hand on his cock as Duncan hit his prostate again. 

It didn’t take but two more times for Duncan to come, pulling out at the last moment to come all over his ass. Though it was quickly washed away in the shower stream. Methos flipped himself over breathing heavy and opened mouthed, hand still holding his rapidly shrinking cock. 

Duncan stared down at him, grinning. “I could get used to this.” Methos met his eyes and smirked. 

“The water is getting cold,” Methos panted out, after a minute passed. 

Duncan nodded, his long hair dripping and tangled around his head. He reached up with his free hand and turned off the tap.

“Feel clean now?”

“Not in the least,” Methos said.

He stood, then held out his arm to help Methos up. “Come on, let’s get to bed.”


End file.
